


me, and the dragon

by scarecrowes



Category: Boardwalk Empire
Genre: Bodyswap, Friendship/Love, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-15
Updated: 2012-09-15
Packaged: 2017-11-14 06:36:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 331
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/512378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scarecrowes/pseuds/scarecrowes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Me and my valuable friend<br/>can fix all the pain away<br/>So before I end my day<br/>remember."</p>
            </blockquote>





	me, and the dragon

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Every Me and Every You](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/11485) by Liv. 



“Beautiful boy.”

The first time AR says it, you almost get sick again.

But it’s your own mouth, and your own face, and AR’s hand is soft in the way that anyone but you would mistake for gentle.

“Charlie.” he says it, and it’s in his voice. You’re in his bed where you fell asleep alone, not as you. Where you fell asleep choked with the broken throat and broken face, with the scarred-over eye socket that Harrow will have ugly, red bruises on his shoulder for, because you couldn’t  _see._

You want it to be fake. An ugly little dream. Meyer on the phone didn’t ask for more of explanation, because he knows you. 

That’s what you want to think it was, anyway. 

“Beautiful boy.” He traces your mouth with his thumb, and he’s tender in a way you don’t often let him be. 

Rothstein looks tired. Tired and worn thin and if you were a better man you’d worry for him, for how he holds you up and pushes you forward and promises to fight - and he had to deal with being someone else, too. 

But you never have been anything but a selfish little kid, haven’t you? 

“M’here.” you mumble against his collarbone, and it’s your voice again. You’re almost scared your throat will rage and burn against you again, that the minute you take another breath it’ll sting. 

_“Beautiful boy._ ” 

But you can breathe just fine, today. 

You can, and you do, thick tobacco and a stolen hotel ashtray with Rothstein’s bruises on your hips. Harrow can keep his mask, his face, the way the whore looks him over. Anything less than kingship for you is a nightmare. 

“Charlie.” AR’s tired mumble pulls you back to bed. He’s got scratches in his arms you didn’t leave. You skitter over Odette and wonder if it’s Inez, instead - you just didn’t notice before. 

He drags you back down again, and the only time it hurts is when you stop. 


End file.
